


You Can't Blame Gravity

by Esperata



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Planet, Drugs, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Suffering, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 10:50:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13545801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: Spock and McCoy get injected with an alien toxin... the inevitable happens.The traditional trope done in my own way, featuring abuse of medical terms and hand jobs.





	You Can't Blame Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> Published in Spiced Peaches LI

They’d escaped their alien captors but not before being injected with whatever drug they seemingly used on prisoners. Spock had hypothesised that it acted as a soporific on the natives, which would explain why the guards had let down their guard, but it clearly didn’t have that effect on humans. Or half human hybrids.

It had been merely embarrassing at first. The toxin had triggered arrhythmia, forcing too much blood to flood their system. Forcing it into _all_ their organs.

As they’d finally found a hiding place in a partially collapsed lava tube McCoy had joked that perhaps they should just deal with the problem in the usual human way. Spock had graced the suggestion with a particularly condescending look before offering any reply.

“I shall enter a meditative trance to control my reaction. You may act as you feel appropriate although I will remind you it is likely we will be rescued soon. I trust you will not inconvenience me while I am meditating.”

McCoy had spluttered his indignation but that was less entertaining when the Vulcan didn’t react. Eventually he’d slid down the wall on the opposite side to Spock and settled in to await rescue.

That had been over an hour ago though and the imminent rescue possibility seemed to be growing more remote.

McCoy had wrapped his arms around his drawn up knees and was rocking in an effort to relieve some of the tension. It had long since progressed from a vague embarrassment to an almost unendurable pain. Every muscle in his body was contracted to the point where he seriously thought they might snap.

Initially he’d worked to keep them moving and simply grit his teeth through the pain but for every muscle he’d managed to stretch, the others had merely tightened further. Now he was locked into position, desperate to unwind… to relax… but bound by his surging blood into rigidity.

Through it all though he’d kept quiet, damned if he’d distract Spock from achieving his own relaxed state, and prayed silently for the others from the Enterprise to find them.

At least, he’d thought he was being silent.

Across the cavern, Spock’s eyes snapped open at the whimpered sound of distress. In one horrified glance he took in the tormented state of the doctor. A second later and he’d calculated the balance of probability that they’d be rescued before permanent damage could occur to his friend.

There was only one conclusion.

Swiftly moving over, Spock laid a hand on the doctor’s heart, feeling its beat beneath his palm. Quiet and steady – the toxin had done its work and flooded the system. The problem now was forcing the blood back away from the extremities.

“Doctor?”

A brief flicker of eyelids was the only response and Spock was not certain that was voluntary. He began briskly rubbing the tense arms, using plenty of pressure to physically push the blood into motion.

“Doctor?”

A harsh cry of pain and the blue eyes flashed open. He looked both pained and confused.

“Spock?”

“Forgive me Doctor. I did not fully anticipate the full effects of the drug. Nor the length of time it would take for us to be found.”

Whether McCoy understood him fully was doubtful but his voice seemed to help him focus beyond his own pain. As Spock shifted the man’s arms back towards his sides though the human gasped again.

“I must stretch your legs,” Spock explained in what may have been an apologetic tone if McCoy had been coherent enough to understand.

He ignored the pained sounds as he focused on what he had to do. Starting at one ankle he firmly ran his hands up one leg, repeating the motion over and over until he felt some of the tension easing, and then switched to the other.

As he worked mechanically he glanced continually at the doctor. McCoy was biting his lip and his fists were still clenched although there was less tension overall in his arms.

Spock realised that he needed to do something further to provoke an overall response rather than localised effects. Which was when he acknowledged the initial site of the toxins effect.

McCoy was still erect.

Granted it was an unwilling reaction to an unwanted stimulant but the outcome was the same. It stood to reason that the physical response to stimulation in this area would be the same regardless of the initial cause of arousal. And Spock knew that humans produced endorphins when they climaxed that would relax their entire system.

He looked once more to the taut, distressed face of the man he considered to be a vital part of his own existence. McCoy may never look at him the same way again but if Spock did not act swiftly then the toxin might cause irreversible damage or even overwhelm his circulatory system.

Spock released McCoy’s legs and shifted so he could meet the human’s eyes without the stricken man having to move.

“Doctor? Do you trust me?”

McCoy blinked distractedly but a second later he nodded jerkily.

“Then trust that I am doing what I must.”

That said, Spock shifted again and deftly unfastened the man’s pants. The gasp that followed might have been surprise or simply relief at the freedom from pressure on the sensitive organ.

Within moments Spock had worked the pants and underwear out of the way and grasped the firm erection unhesitantly. He allowed himself a second to catalogue the experience.

It was hot beneath his hand. Hotter than he ever knew a human could feel. There was a soft texture over the unyielding flesh beneath and, when he experimentally ran his hand to the tip, a wetness that eased his progress back down.

Bringing his own wayward emotions back under control he focused on applying smooth repetitive pressure to the stiff member. Still, he couldn’t help but notice McCoy’s reactions to the stimulation.

He’d continued biting into his bottom lip until it had finally bled and he’d released it with a gasp. After that he made continuous sounds of either pleasure or pain – Spock couldn’t always tell which.

His hands, which had been curled into solid fists, unfurled themselves to scratch at the smooth rock surface beneath him.

But it was his eyes that Spock found he couldn’t look away from. Usually such a soft blue, they were darkened to black where his pupils had dilated. Then they’d met Spock’s own dark stare and the Vulcan had fallen into their inky depths.

Without thinking he leant forward and pressed his own lips to the other man’s, tasting the iron tang of blood, and smothering the hoarse cry that signalled climax. Spock broke away to watch as ejaculate shot out in diminishing arcs leaving McCoy shuddering in its wake.

Spock swallowed hard and forced himself to assess McCoy objectively.

He was relieved to see that lassitude had indeed resulted. The clawed fingers were flopping unnoticed beside their scratched marks. His limbs were likewise spread out like a cut marionette with no sign of enforced tension. And his face was relaxed so much so that Spock thought the doctor might have fallen asleep. Perhaps not surprising given the severe stress he’d been through.

With the utmost care Spock rearranged the doctor’s clothing so he was decent. Then, incautiously, he reached out again to rest his palm over McCoy’s heart.

The doctor’s familiar blue gaze landed on him at once and Spock froze.

“That was not how I imagined our first time,” the doctor drawled tiredly.

Spock couldn’t entirely hide his surprise and forgot to remove his hand.

“You have imagined our coupling?”

The blink preluded a sudden return to awareness on the human’s part and his mouth set in an all too familiar angry line. Spock knew he needed to reassure his friend quickly before he could begin his aggressive defensiveness.

“How did you imagine it?” he queried.

“We were both willing for starters!” McCoy snapped, shifting himself back to a more appropriate upright position against the wall.

Spock allowed the movement and let his hand fall back to his own lap.

“In that respect at least it has fulfilled expectations then.”

That gained him a most suspicious look.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I was willing on several levels,” Spock explained truthfully. “Primarily, I undertook the endeavour to relieve you of the spasticity that I believed might do you serious injury but I would be lying if I said I had not considered engaging with you in such a manner.”

It took a moment but a slow grin spread across McCoy’s face.

“Why Mister Spock. It sounds like you’re admitting to fantasising about me.”

“As you have already admitted to doing so about me,” Spock pointed out. “It seems only fair.”

McCoy actually blushed at the reminder and ducked his head. Then a spasm made him wince and Spock moved closer again.

“You are still suffering the effects of the drug,” he commented bringing his hand back to rub at McCoy’s shoulder.

“A little.”

Spock shifted them so the doctor was positioned against his chest where the Vulcan could easily reach to massage the sporadically shuddering muscles. McCoy chuckled softly.

“I can’t imagine what Jim will say if he finds us all cuddled up like this together.”

Spock considered the many conversations he’d had with Jim about the difficulty of addressing his feelings for the doctor.

“I believe he shall simply be relieved.”


End file.
